2025-05-08 20:39:57The clubhouse roared with life. Music blasted from every corner, drinks flowed like rivers, and laughter bounced off the glass walls. Rickon sat at the center of it all, legs sprawled and arms wide, as if the entire party existed solely for his amusement. He didn’t care much for the noise or the chaos—what mattered was that the ladies adored him. Every flirtatious glance, every giggle aimed his way fueled his already inflated ego.
And Beauty, ever the drama queen, was livestreaming the entire event, pouting into her camera as she called him “Zaddy Rickon.”
Rickon grinned like a devil in velvet. This was his realm, his world, and the crowd fed off his presence like moths to a flame.
When he was buzzed enough to feel invincible, he clapped loudly, silencing the music for a moment. “Yo, Chance!” he called, his voice slurred slightly. “You bring anything for my girl, Chloe? Don’t tell me you showed up here empty-handed to just feed off her like the charity case you are.”
Chloe, standing close to the bar in her sequined silver dress, stiffened at the mention of her name. She didn’t appreciate being called “his girl” or the way he was speaking to Chance, but she had to admit—Rickon had paid for everything. The private clubhouse, the open bar, the decorations, even the over-the-top six-tier cake with her face printed on it. It wasn’t how she imagined celebrating her birthday, but it was... extravagant. Unforgettable. So she had to play the perfect hostess.
She looked at Chance, her expression hopeful yet guarded. Surely he'd not come empty-handed. He was too thoughtful for that. A gadget, maybe? A gift card? She knew Chance had never been flashy.
“Let’s see what Mr. Modest brought,” someone chuckled.
Vinita, leaning against the backrest with her wine glass tilted, smirked. “Well, Chance gave me the cheapest box of chocolates I've ever seen for my birthday—and we were dating then,” she said pointedly. “I wonder what a ‘just friend’ gets?”
The group erupted in laughter. Chloe winced.
Chance didn’t respond to their jeers. He walked over to her calmly, holding a sleek black gift bag with the signature gold “LV” seal embossed at the front. He offered it to her without flourish, just a quiet, “Happy birthday, Chloe.”
Chloe opened the bag and pulled out a stunning black purse—sleek, structured, and unfamiliar. It was beautiful, no doubt, but not something anyone had seen before. Murmurs started.
“What kind of LV is that?”
“Wait... is that real?”
Rickon narrowed his eyes. He didn't like that the buzz was shifting to Chance. He stood and sauntered over, reaching for the bag like a hawk circling prey. Chloe hesitated, but he snatched it from her hands with a mock-charming grin. “Mind if I take a closer look, princess?”
He turned it over, examined the stitching, the gold hardware, and the subtle pattern woven into the leather.
Then he stilled.
“This... this is the Louis Vuitton Black Widow,” Rickon announced. “It’s a one-of-a-kind design. Only one ever made. It was auctioned tonight at a private collector's event. A very private event—only twenty people were invited.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Chance watched him with a quiet smile, hands folded behind his back. He didn’t have to say a word— Rickon was confirming the truth for him.
“Wait, wait,” someone said. “How do you know all that, Rickon?”
Rickon rolled his eyes. “Because my mother was at that auction. She was the one who almost got it. Lost the bid to some crazy billionaire who paid three million dollars for it.”
A stunned silence fell.
Everyone turned to Chance. He was suddenly the topic of the night. Girls were already plotting how to sidle up to him.
“You bought that?” Jessica asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “That’s a $3 million bag.”
Rickon scoffed. “Please. Chance? Don’t make me laugh.”
But the murmurs had already begun.
“Did he steal it?”
“No way, he doesn't look like someone with that kind of money.”
“Maybe he’s like those secret billionaire characters on Meganovel... you know, hidden identity, fake poverty, all that jazz.”
Rickon paled.
He couldn’t let that narrative take root.
He laughed loudly, clapping his hands. “Y’all think he bought that bag? Come on now! You really think Chance is some mystery billionaire? Maybe next you’ll say he owns half the country and just ‘forgot’ to mention it!”
The crowd laughed nervously.
Rickon pressed on. “The bidding started at two hundred grand. Only people who had pre-approved bank guarantees could participate. My mom had to back out because the buyer went nuclear with the price. Three million. Three. Million. You think this guy has three million to spend on a purse?”
More laughter. This time, crueler.
Rickon’s grin sharpened. “He probably bought a replica. You can get high-grade copies from China for, like... a thousand bucks max. Heck, some of them even come with fake certificates and QR codes.”
The energy shifted.
Suddenly, the awe turned to suspicion.
“Wait, are you saying it’s fake?” one of the girls asked.
“Imagine that.” Rickon said smugly. “You guys know how we run things here—either the real deal or no deal at all.”
“Either the real deal or no deal at all!” The room echoed in drunken agreement.
Chloe’s brows furrowed. She looked at Chance, silently asking for confirmation.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Rickon cut in.
“Hopefully Julia Franklin becomes the next president; people like you—counterfeit supporters, fraud enablers—be sure, you'll be standing behind bars.”
Boos filled the room. Someone threw a napkin. A few girls hissed and muttered about wasted beauty. Chloe stepped forward, trying to salvage the moment, but it was too late.
Chance felt anger ripple through him. But he didn't let it show. He didn’t have to. He nodded slowly. “Happy birthday, Chloe,” he said softly. Then he turned and walked out.
The door closed behind him with a soft click that somehow sounded louder than the music that started up again.
Rickon raised his glass, grinning. “To real class.”
But Chloe didn’t smile. Her hands clutched the bag to her chest, her gaze fixed on the door Chance had just walked through.
Something about this didn’t sit right.
And somewhere deep in her gut, she knew the bag was real. Knew Chance had done something insane, something reckless—but not fake.
Never ever fake.
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Latest Chapter
Chapter 59
Chance was walking toward the Economics building when it happened.A sudden impact and then warm liquid spilled across his chest.“Oh my God! I am so sorry!” came the breathy voice of Amanda Brooks, the third lady in the gang of Kate Henshaw and Sarah Myles.It was now her turn to give her first trial in trying to flirt with Chance after Kate and Sarah had failed.She had “accidentally” walked into him, her tall latte now decorating the front of his shirt in brown splatters.Amanda gasped dramatically and began dabbing his shirt with a monogrammed napkin pulled from her bag. “I didn’t even see you coming! Are you okay? It’s… oh gosh, it’s everywhere.”Chance looked down at his shirt, then up at her. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”“No, really, I feel horrible,” Amanda said, eyes wide as she continued dabbing a little too long. “It’s totally my fault. Let me make it up to you. Please.”“There’s no need—” he started, stepping slightly back from her insistence, “—it was just coffee. I
Chapter 58
The door to Julia’s study remained slightly ajar long after Chance stepped out.He didn’t slam it. He didn’t speak another word.But the weight of her final statement—“This conversation is over”—pressed against his ribs like armor that didn’t quite fit. Each step he took down the long corridor echoed in his chest like a quiet defiance, yet there was no victory in it. Only more questions. Questions he wasn’t sure he was ready to answer, but knew he could no longer avoid.The photograph of his mother and Professor Helsin was still fresh in his mind—two young women brimming with ambition, curiosity, and fire. It was more than a picture. It was a memory that didn’t belong to him, yet somehow shaped every corner of the world he now stood in. There had been a time before everything fell apart. Before empires and elections. Before betrayals turned best friends into ghosts.And now?Julia wouldn’t tell him what happened. She wouldn't even entertain the thought. But she’d made one thing painfu
Chapter 57
The rain had long stopped by the time Chance arrived home that evening, but the lingering chill in the air clung to his jacket as he stepped into the quiet warmth of the estate. The house was still, the kind of stillness that only came when business meetings were over. Gary was not yet back from playing golf and Philip Banks was probably still in one of his business meetings. So, he too was not yet back home and the only person in the house when Chance arrived home was his mother, Julia.Judging by the time, Chance knew exactly where to find her—and that was her study.The primary elections were just a fortnight away and Julia was at this point, so much engrossed in her political ambition that she spent almost the entire day trying to set things right and to make sure she won in the primary elections.Chance had told her that she will only have the full support of the O’Connor if she comes out victorious in the primaries.Julia looked up from her desk the moment Chance stepped into t
Chapter 56
The heavy door clicked shut behind him, but Chance didn’t keep walking. Instead, he stepped aside, away from the main corridor of the East Faculty Wing, and into a quiet corner near the old literature alcove.He realized he was still holding the folder even if he hadn’t really asked what it was for nor what was inside. But since Professor Helsin had given it to him, and had allowed him to leave with it, he decided to open it and see what was inside.Inside was a single photograph—aged, but well-kept. Two young women smiled at the camera in vintage university sweaters, leaning against one another like inseparable twins of fire and intellect. One had luminous eyes—his mother, Julia. The other had a pencil behind her ear, hair wild and windblown, eyes full of a mischief Chance recognized now as Professor Helsin.Chance stared at it, stunned. It was true after all that she and his mother were actually good friends because the picture was saying it all.Looking closely at the picture, he
Chapter 55
The prestigious stone arches of Elite Society University gleamed under the late morning sun as Chance stepped out of the town car, his bag slung casually over one shoulder. The familiar hum of campus life surrounded him—students laughing near the fountain, the rustle of lecture notes being shuffled, the distant sound of someone practicing violin in the arts block.But today, it all felt a little quieter.Or maybe he had just grown louder inside.The moment his shoes hit the main quad, a familiar voice called out from behind a column of ivy.“Chance!”He turned.Chloe jogged toward him, a curious mix of surprise and concern on her face. Her chestnut waves were pulled into a loose braid, and she had that look she always wore when something was off—but she hadn’t decided yet whether it was good or bad.“You’re not going to believe it,” she said, falling into step beside him.Chance tilted his head. “Try me.”“Prince Harry left this morning.” She announced like she was delivering a specta
Chapter 54
The morning sun filtered gently through the floor-length windows of the Banks Estate breakfast conservatory, spilling golden warmth across the long marble table and bouncing off silver cutlery. Outside, birds chirped across the manicured lawn, and a light breeze rustled the towering hedges surrounding the estate.Inside, the air smelled of fresh-ground coffee, sourdough toast, smoked salmon, and jasmine tea.Chance, in a soft navy polo, sat at the head of the table, flipping through a portfolio on his tablet, his expression calm but thoughtful. To his right was Philip Banks, dressed in a tailored tan vest, sipping his usual lemon tea with the quiet grace of a seasoned strategist. Gary, hair a little tousled from sleep, lounged across from Chance, already halfway through his third croissant. At the far end sat Julia, elegant in a pale linen wrap, her poise unshaken even after a sleepless night.For a few moments, there was only the quiet clink of plates and the rustle of digital paper.
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